


A Safe Place

by AndreaDTX



Series: What's Your Fantasy? [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Power Play, Rimming, Spanking, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaDTX/pseuds/AndreaDTX
Summary: Sam both loves and hates feeling out of control. Despite his conflicted feelings about it, there's only one person he trusts to make him feel that way.SERIES NOTE: Lightly connected chapters, but each chapter can be read as a STAND-ALONE





	A Safe Place

Safe Place

Like clockwork, Sam felt that tug, that familiar itch. That slinking, dark need whispering to him as predictable as it was annoying and irresistible. He loitered around Dean’s door, subtly signaling that he was ready for a ‘special’ night, but Dean seemed to be intentionally ignoring him, pretending he didn’t already know what this was all about, making Sam come up with four different barely-actually-not-really-believable reasons for coming to Dean’s room before finally giving in.

“Sammy.”

Sam popped his head into the room less than two seconds later, probably making it even more obvious that he was just hanging out in the corridor by Dean’s door and not off somewhere in the bunker ‘researching’ like he pretended. His heart pounded anxiously even as he tried to play it cool.

“Yeah?”

“Am I in charge tonight?” Dean asked quietly and carefully.

Sam heard the words _and_ the real question underneath.

He blinked and swallowed. This was _exactly_ why he was here but admitting it—asking for it—was hard. Embarrassing. It wasn’t easy to let go, to let Dean take control. He’d fought for years to be considered equal, independent, to show he didn’t need to be taken care of.

But he craved it, until it was like fire trapped under his skin.

Their on-going fantasy fulfillment game made it a little easier, made him feel like less of a freak since Dean had to admit to his secret desires, too. Still, it wasn’t easy. His gaze fell to the floor and he shuffled his feet before working up to the nerve to look back at Dean.

“Yeah... Um… yes. Please.”

“Alright. Get in here.”

Sam grinned brightly, hope, excitement, and arousal twining and fluttering in his chest and admittedly a good foot or so lower. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Dean put down the book he was reading—Neil Gaiman’s _Neverwhere_?—got off the bed and walked over to where Sam stood. “What’s your safe word?”

“Patches.” Sam successfully suppressed the shutter that stupid clown’s name always induced.

“And who’s in charge?”

Sam took a deep breath. “You are, Dean.”

“And what’s that mean?”

“Whatever you say, when you say, how you say.”

Dean hummed in pleased acknowledgement and stood a moment studying him, maybe considering what they would do tonight. Sam tried to stand still but didn’t quite manage, squirming under the scrutiny. He would do whatever Dean wanted. That was the key to Sam’s fantasy. He wanted to feel out of control. Vulnerable. Exposed. He wanted—needed—Dean to push his boundaries, manhandle him, overwhelm his resistance. It was a struggle not to takeover. He was naturally stubborn, headstrong, bossy. But he always ended up disappointed, cranky, and angry at both Dean and himself when he did. When he completely gave himself over to Dean… It was an earthshattering experience. And he got to have it with the person who made him feel the safest in all the world.

Dean stepped close, crowding Sam’s personal space, his unique scent, smoky wood and gun oil, irresistible, making Sam to take a deep, heady breath. He used a hand around Sam’s neck to pull him down into a kiss, erasing the few inches that separated them. Sam went willingly, eagerly opening his mouth, letting Dean’s tongue slip inside, losing himself in the soft meeting of lips and the slick slide of tongues.

But it wasn’t long before he instinctively tried to seize control of the kiss, to make it bolder, rougher. Without even realizing it, he reached to frame Dean’s face between in his hands. Dean shook his head and pulled back with a tisk.

“Doing this my way,” he reminded Sam, an amused reprimand in his husky voice. “Hands behind your head.”

Sam huffed, irritated with himself for forgetting, and interlaced his fingers into position as asked. The pose forced his spine straighter, stretched the muscles in his chest, pulled his belly concave. He tingled with how… open his body felt, a shiver tickling down his spine as he waited.

Dean tried again, stretching up, rocking just the slightest bit on the balls of his feet to kiss Sam again, to run the point of his tongue over Sam’s top lip, a slight tickle, before sucking the bottom one into his mouth, tugging just a bit until the pressure of the suction made Sam shiver.

Sam hummed when he felt a hand running down his chest, Dean unbuttoning Sam’s top shirt as he went, sliding over his stomach before boldly sliding his hand straight into the front of Sam’s pants. Normally, Dean gave him a shit ton of crap for insisting on wearing his jeans a size too big (it was hard to find off-the-rack pants long enough for his legs _and_ small enough for his waist), but in moments like this, the extra space really came in handy. Dean gripped Sam’s cock firmly, giving it a solid squeeze, pulling a moan from him at the illicit feel of being worked up by his big brother inside the restrictive confines of his underwear. Sam closed his eyes for a brief moment, took a deep breath, tried to center himself inside the sensations. He wasn’t completely hard, half-mast at best, but he was getting there quickly, his cock twitching hard in Dean’s hand as it rushed to fill. He groaned and bucked his hips.

“Be still,” Dean commanded as he squeezed again and again, alternating the strong, rhythmic pulses with slow, firm rubs just under the cockhead to help Sam along. Arousal swirled in Sam’s stomach, quickly zipping lower. He really wanted to curl forward and rest his head on Dean's shoulder, to really get lost in Dean's touch but he was determined to hold the position Dean had ordered. It wasn’t long before he was solidly hard, long and firm in Dean’s calloused grip, choking back a groan as Dean’s wrist roughly brushed the tip of his cock with every stroke.

Using one hand to grip Sam and the other to move clothing out of the way, Dean pulled Sam all the way out, tucking the waist band of his jeans and shorts just underneath his balls, then let go and took a step back.

Sam felt the distinctive sharp prickles of a hot blush building and it got a little harder to breathe, but he bit his tongue. Dean did it purely for the shock value, to push him, test him, simply because it wasn’t something Sam—far too shy—would ever do, have his cock and balls exposed simply for the sake of it, framed top and bottom by his t-shirt and waistband, side to side by the open tails of his plaid over shirt, while otherwise fully dressed. He wasn’t ashamed of what he was working with, but outside of pissing, it felt weird to have his junk just hanging out. Dean gave a soft snort at some inside joke only he knew. Sam didn’t bother to ask, certain that whatever it was would just make him more embarrassed, instead focused on trying to calm his breathing while he waited for Dean’s next move.

“Make your dick jump.”

Sam blinked, startled and confused by the request. “Do what?”

“Make your dick jump,” Dean repeated with a smirk, a lilt of his lips familiar from when they were teenagers, one that nearly screamed _‘I dare you’_.

Sam frowned. “I can’t—”

“Dude, I have the exact same parts, I know how they work. You can. So do it already.”

Sam pinched his lips and looked away for a quick second before looking back, the hot blush he'd felt tickling now burning up his neck and stealing into his cheeks.

Then he tightened his muscles, the ones he used to start and stop a flow of urine, a quick clench he couldn’t hold for very long. His cock jerked up toward his stomach before falling back to its natural erect resting position.

Dean laughed with unrestrained glee. “Told you!”

“Dean, this is so child—"

The words faded into a moan when Dean gripped him tightly and gave him a couple of rapid, firm strokes in reward, using Sam’s own natural slick to ease the way. Sam’s eyes drifted closed and he thrust into the grip. After a few seconds Dean let go and Sam’s eyes drifted back open.

“Now do it until I tell you to stop.”

Sam shifted and let out a small whine. “This is em—”

“What I say. When I say. How I say. _Right_?”

Sam stared at him for a few seconds, tempted to balk as his cheeks burned hotter and hotter until it was painful and the blush had to be beyond obvious.

Instead, he sighed and clenched, making his cock jerk up towards his stomach.

Dean watched him silently and so intently Sam _had_ to close his eyes, unable to maintain eye contact. But he followed the command nonetheless, repeating the motion over and over again.

Sam knew it had to look goofy, especially fully dressed with his fingers still laced behind his head. But it was also kinda hot, a way of emphasizing Dean’s control over Sam’s body without Dean even touching him. And the more he did it, the harder he got.

Dean moved around the room. From the opening and closing of drawers, Sam guessed he was gathering whatever he needed for what he had planned. Sam hoped he hurried. He wouldn’t be able to keep this trick up for long; the muscles didn’t have all that much stamina to begin with.

Sam opened his eyes when he sensed Dean’s presence in front of him once again, a shoe-sized box resting on the floor near his feet. Sam was still determinedly making his dick jump as requested, but the movement much slower as he tired, and his face was beet red, equal parts exhaustion and embarrassment.

“You can stop.”

Sam sighed in relief.

Dean smirked, but said nothing and slipped surprisingly gracefully to his knees right in front of Sam. He barely had time to think before Dean sucked him down to the root. Sam yelped as his cock jerked, the same tired muscles clenching naturally in reflex. Dean grinned wickedly, his eyes a bright, happy green, his mouth stretched wide around Sam’s cock. Sam couldn’t suppress his answering smile or the surge of lust that burned through him. Didn’t really want to either.

Dean gripped Sam’s thighs and focused, apparently having decided to give Sam the best blow job of his life. Sam strained to keep his fingers laced behind his head, his breath hitching as Dean’s tongue worked around his cock, the tip sliding into the excruciating tightness of Dean’s throat, the muscles squeezing him as Dean swallowed hard. Dean’s eyes drifted shut and he hummed lustily, a reminder that he actually enjoyed doing this, wasn’t just doing it because Sam wanted it, a knowledge that was almost hotter than the act itself, sending a sharp thrill through Sam. The wet, heat of Dean’s mouth was the stuff of fantasies, the kind of thing people wrote sappy, innuendo-laden loves poems about. Or maybe limericks. Dean’s mouth definitely deserved limericks. When they were still teenagers, Dean had beaten the shit out of more than one guy for telling him he had a mouth ‘made for sucking cock’, but it was the honest, albeit extremely rude, truth.

Sam watched, nearly dazed, as his cock reappeared inch by inch until Dean pulled off, breaking the tension with an audible pop. Dean licked his lips and swallowed before opening his mouth wide. He stared directly into Sam’s eyes as he rubbed the head of Sam’s cock hard and fast in a tight back and forth against the flat of his tongue. It was a feeling Sam couldn’t really describe other than to say it felt damned good, made even better by Dean’s moan when Sam’s cock pulsed out a stream of pre-cum. Sam groaned, entranced by the small, milky pool before Dean closed his mouth and sucked, hard, making Sam’s toes curl. With his mouth wrapped just around the head and still sucking like he was trying to dissolve a piece of hard candy, Dean wrapped a slick hand around Sam’s shaft and started stroking, a quick, furious motion, that reminded Sam of the rhythm he used on himself when he just wanted to quickly rub one out before going to sleep. It was a take-no-prisoners speed that sent electricity tearing through Sam’s body.

“Oh fuck,” Sam hissed, his hips writhing as he struggled to stay in place. It wasn’t long before he felt the tell-tale tightening in his balls and the tingling at the base of his spine. But this was so good, he wasn’t even sure he wanted it to end. “Dean, I’m getting… I’m getting close.”

Dean pulled off and slowed the motion of his hand. “Do you want it now or do you wanna make it last?”

Sam bit his lip, his heart racing, his mind marveling at the rasp of Dean’s voice, knowing exactly what had caused it. He licked his lips and tried to think. It had taken him weeks to build up the nerve to ask for this and who knew when he’d be bold enough to ask again? “Wanna... wanna make it last.”

Dean nodded and sat back, reaching for the shoe box sitting off to his left. He pushed the lid off just far enough to reach his hand inside, but not enough for Sam to see what all was in the box. He slid out a leather-wrapped ping pong paddle. Sam gasped so hard he nearly choked on his own breath, completely unable to take his eyes off of it. Dean rotated the paddle in his hand.

“What color are we, Sammy?”

“…green,” he whispered, barely able to choke the word out over the adrenaline tightening his throat. This was one of those things, those secret, dirty things that he wanted, but was afraid to ask for. But Dean knew and gave him what he wanted without Sam even having to voice the words. This was what made him and Dean work.

“Lose the shirt, hands on the door,” Dean said, pushing to his feet. He unbuttoned his own shirt and tossed it to the floor, leaving him in a fitted black tee and jeans, his own feet already bare.

Sam tugged off the over shirt and pulled his t-shirt over his head, throwing both onto Dean’s bed. Crossing over to the door, he followed Dean’s orders placing his hands against the door level with his head and waited. He heard cloth hitting the floor and looked back to see Dean spread a throw blanket on the floor, presumedly for later. Sam took a deep breath and pressed his forehead to the door.

Dean came up behind and snugged right against Sam’s back. He used his hand to turn Sam’s face towards him and gave him a deep, slow kiss all the while rubbing the smooth, cool leather of his paddle down Sam’s chest, over both nipples, across his stomach and along the top of his hard cock. Sam groaned and let his hips jerk even though it wasn't physically possible to fuck into the paddle the way his mind wanted to.

Dean let go and Sam had to remind himself not to follow. Dean pulled Sam’s hips back, pushing Sam’s torso forward, making Sam’s ass stick out. Pushing his foot between Sam’s, Dean kicked his feet so they were a little more than hip width apart. He reached around and undid the button and zip to Sam’s jeans and tugged them and his underwear down so that they rested mid-thigh and his hard cock hung free between his legs. By now Sam was too turned on to be embarrassed. His chest heaved like a racehorse and his cock was jerking all on its own by the time Dean rubbed a hand over the swell of his ass.

“Gonna turn this ruby red. That what you want?”

Sam swallowed hard. “…yes… please.”

He tensed and released, impatient for that first blow. Finally, he heard the air displace as Dean took his first swing. The first swat still startled him. The loud noise. The stinging pain that popped then burned dully before fading away.

“Still green?”

Sam nodded. “More, please.”

The second smack landed on his other cheek and Sam hissed and tensed, shifted, trying to breathe through the burn.

"Still good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Please..."

After the third smack, Dean didn’t bother checking in, instead letting Sam sink into his head. Several slaps to the exact same spot made the burn so intense it nearly had Sam dancing in place, the pain intense but beautiful and hot. He was almost disappointed when Dean switched to the other side.

His entire ass was sore and sensitive when Dean checked in with him again.

“What’s the color?”

“Green,” Sam moaned, aching to slide his hand down and grip himself. He’d gone a bit limp from the pain, but he was still buzzing with arousal.

“You’re sure? You’re not feeling _funny_ or anything” Dean asked, offering Sam his safe word.

“Nah. I’m good. Just… a little bit more? A few really hard ones, yeah?”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, realizing what was going on. “But only five. Don’t get too lost inside that big brain of yours.”

Sam nodded quietly and braced himself.

Even though he’d asked for harder, it still caught him flat-footed when Dean basically swung for the fences. Sam tensed and grunted when each slap landed, the pain reverberating through him, painful but perfect. He could handle it.

At least until the last.

It wasn’t that Dean did anything wrong. Sam just couldn’t hold himself up any longer. His knees buckled and he cried out faintly knowing in the back of his mind that he was falling. But the expected sensation of hitting the floor never came. Instead, he was cradled against Dean’s body, a strong arm wrapped around his waist.

“You’re okay,” Dean assured him, stroking his hair, dropping kisses softly up his neck, across his shoulders, whispering soft nothings between each peck. Dean lowered him slowly to the ground, guiding him onto the blanket he'd already spread into what he faintly recognized as a relaxed Child’s Pose. Sam sank into the position, lost in the floatiness of his head. It was comfortable and stress free, his chest resting on the supremely soft blanket, his knees splayed and tucked up near his torso, keeping his sore butt from making contact with anything. He barely even whined when Dean moved him just enough to his clothes the rest of the way off. That had been fantastic, everything he’d wanted. He’d talk Dean into more if he could, but there was no chance of that happening since he hadn’t managed to stay on his feet. Sam sighed a little sad but content. He could’ve easily fallen asleep if not for the persistent, dull ache in his cock and balls from being engorged so long. But it just didn’t seem all that important right then.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, floating, until he felt a slick, soft swipe at his hole.

“Oh god.”

He tried to lurch up, but Dean held him in place with a firm hand against his nape, keeping Sam’s face pressed down. Another soft lap, then another and another, before Dean hardened his tongue to a point and pushed it inside. Sam whimpered and wiggled, not even sure whether he was trying to get away from or to get more of that intense feeling. Dean’s hands clasped him by the ass cheeks, pulling Sam’s hips up and closer, forcing a hiss out of Sam. Sam shifted his hands to push himself up on all fours.

“No. Stay,” Dean ordered, pulling Sam’s arms back flat and parallel with his body, leaving Sam chest down, ass up, legs spread shoulder width apart, completely open to Dean’s ministrations.

Sam shivered and moaned which Dean seemed to seize upon, forcing his tongue deeper inside Sam’s hole, around and around, drawing out every sigh, groan, and whine he could. He firmly massaged Sam’s sore cheeks, strong kneading that made Sam clench around the wiggling muscle wedged inside of him. Dean licked, licked, licked until Sam thought he was going to fly out of his skin, lose his mind, or both.

When Dean finally pulled back, Sam groaned with disappointment even as he worked to catch his breath. He was so focused on his breathing, he must’ve missed the sound of the lube bottle but he definitely didn’t miss the feel of Dean pressing the pad of his middle finger against the opening of Sam’s body.

“Relax,” Dean murmured and pressed the digit forward.

“ _Nngh._ ” Sam groaned, clenching his fist so that he could keep the rest of his body relaxed, his toes flexing then curling.

Dean didn’t pause at the first knuckle to give Sam time to adjust to the intrusion, instead pressing inexorably forward until his finger was completely seated and the webbing of his fingers were snug against Sam’s ass.

Sam whined, long and high, fighting to accept the stinging stretch and burn, finally giving in and clenching around Dean’s finger.

“So tight,” Dean said, a note of awe in his voice. He wiggled his finger in a slight circle rubbing at the offended muscle. Using his other hand, he scritched his fingers through Sam’s hair, sending goosebumps all over Sam’s body, making his nipples tighten painfully and the well-used skin on his ass sting. “You’re doing so good, Sammy. You ready for another?”

Sam nodded eagerly and didn’t even fight the groan when Dean slid his finger out.

Dean was just as forceful with the second finger and the stretch and sting was perfect and mind-blowing. A groan rumbled in Sam’s chest as Dean scissored his fingers apart, making Sam open even more and Sam honest to god squeaked when he felt Dean’s tongue slide between his spread fingers to lick at the hot, slick skin inside of him. It was almost perfect. If he could just get a hand on his cock, get a few strokes, he’d blast off into pure bliss. But Dean had intentionally positioned his hands so he couldn’t use them and he knew Dean wasn’t stretching him open for no reason. That box off to the right still had enough items in it to rattle when shifted.

Sure enough, Dean used his free hand to reach into what Sam had mentally decided should be deemed ‘the treasure box’.

“So I figured now was as good a time as any to break this in.”

Sam cracked his eyes open to see what Dean held and bit back a moan. It was the vibrating rimming plug they’d recently bought but hadn’t had a chance to test out yet. It was six inches long and two and a quarter inches around. The main part of it was thick and curved, built to snug and mold against the prostate while the last two inches from the base were narrower and filled with rotating beads that gave a sensation similar to being rimmed while the plug vibrated against the prostate. Sam nearly jizzed himself just looking at the thing.

He must have lost his fight against that moan or something because Dean chuckled. “Hold tight. We’ll get there.”

Sam watched breathlessly as Dean slicked up the plug and squeezed his eyes shut when Dean disappeared back behind him. The plug pressed against his opening and he grunted as his body spread slowly but surely around it. The burn was still there since the plug was bigger than two of Dean’s fingers, but it felt amazing. When it was finally seated, Sam clenched repeatedly, gasping for breath. It wasn’t the biggest thing he’d ever had inside of him, but the way it curved and pressed, it was definitely in the running for the most intense.

And then Dean turned it on.

Sam howled and his back arched, his hips dropping into a frantic rutting as he was nearly instantaneously punted to the very edge of orgasm. His hands flew to his cock, only to slap against Dean’s hands which were already there clamping around the base, the nearly painful iron grip the only thing keeping him tipping over.

“ _Ohgawd, pleasepleaseDeanplease,_ ” Sam chanted mindlessly, his hips writhing with how close he was.

“No,” Dean said with a calm that Sam couldn’t even process as he shivered and shook and gasped, his nerves completely overwhelmed.

“Dean, please…” He desperately scratched at Dean’s hand trying to force him to loosen his grip. That earned him a firm but not overly painful slap to the face with Dean’s free hand. The sting cleared his head, forced the mania to recede a bit.

“Take a deep breath.”

Sam stared blankly, confused, hips rocking, body twitching.

“Deep. Breath.”

Sam sucked in one shaky breath, then a second, and a third. It didn’t stop him from writhing around the plug which was delivering on every wicked promise made, but his head cleared a little and he could at least understand what Dean was saying now.

“You wanna cum, Sammy?”

“God, yes, please,” Sam groaned out.

Dean used his free hand to pull Sam against him, back to chest. Sam keened as the position forced the plug further into his body, vibration shooting harder up and down his spine, and made his hole tighten around the rotating beads.

“Alright. We’re going to do this my way. I’m going to stroke you ten times. You’re going to count it out. On the tenth one, let ‘er rip. Got it?”

Sam nodded frantically.

“You’re not gonna disappoint me and cum early are you, Sammy?”

Sam shook his head just as frantically.

“Alright, here we go.”

And, of course, Dean Winchester would be the master of the slow stroke. The part of Sam that wasn’t focused on not having an aneurysm was actually deeply impressed. It was a tight grip that rubbed him from base to tip, applying equal pressure all the way up before sweeping firmly all the way around the head, expertly gathering the pre-cum that was practically pouring out of Sam and using it to keep the stroke perfectly smooth, just the right amount of friction.

The part of Sam that was convinced his heart was going to give out was being inundated by sensation. The buzzing of the plug so firm against his prostate, making his head swim and his cock drool. The beads swirling like a never-tiring tongue. The callused palm of Dean’s hand giving the perfect mixture of rough and smooth. It wasn’t until Dean bit his ear sharply that he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

“One,” he croaked out, his voicing cracking hideously.

Dean worked his hand slowly, making Sam count. Two, three, four… eight more strokes, pausing until he acknowledged each one.

Then fucking finally…

“Here we go, Sammy,” Dean whispered, pleasure coating his voice. Sam tensed, waiting for it.

It wasn’t even really one stroke. Dean broke pattern and started pumping Sam, jack rabbit fast and viciously tight. Sam grunted painfully as his body jumped to catch up and clamped down around the plug tight, tight, tight…

And then released.

He didn’t remember screaming, but his throat was so raw he must have. His cock twitched violently, splattering cum up Sam’s torso nearly to his chin. He would have said that was porno bullshit before this, but lo and behold. His whole body jerked, only Dean’s arm across his waist keeping Sam in Dean’s lap. Dean kept pushing, working him through the sharp pleasure, wringing out every drop with increasingly long and slow strokes until Sam was just a boneless, twitching mess in Dean’s lap, sweating, gasping, and dizzy with relief. Dean switched off the plug and just held Sam, running his hand soothingly up and down Sam’s chest while Sam tried to catch his breath only for Dean to kiss him until he was short of breath again.

“This plug is my new favoritest,” Sam slurred, settling back in Dean’s arms.

“Yeah?” Dean asked with a laugh.

“Yeah.”

Sam nuzzled into Dean’s throat, sucking grateful kisses. Dean hummed and hugged him tightly. It didn’t take long for the hugging to turn into humping and Sam moaned when he felt Dean’s hardness at his back.

“Ready for round two?” Dean asked.

“Oh fuck…” Sam whimpered.

“Exactly.”

It didn’t really come as a surprise. In addition to being work up from his unbelievable patience in fulfilling Sam’s fantasy, Dean personally had a kink for overstimulation. It was a little painful, but the right kind, and it was hot as hell, the perfect tit for the tat Dean had given him, so Sam went willingly when Dean rolled them over. He pushed and pulled Sam back into the Child’s Pose, albeit a floppier version since Sam wasn’t nearly as tense now.

Sam hissed as Dean tugged the plug from his body which was loathe to give up its new favorite toy. He felt empty without it but that didn’t last long. Dean quickly slicked himself and lined himself up. Much like earlier, there wasn’t much warning and Dean pushed straight in. Sam grunted low and deep. Bigger than the plug, Dean forcefully stretched muscles that were already tired and overwhelmed. Sam hissed and clenched down, wiggled, trying to accommodate the additional girth. Dean gave him the briefest of moments of reprieve to adjust before his own impatience won out and he started to move.

Sam grunted and groaned with every in and out. The sensation was overly sharp but feeling Dean tremble over him was amazing and heady. He was lost in Dean’s sounds when Dean reached down and gripped him, snapping Sam out of the blissful bubble he’d been floating in.

“I wanna feel you come around me.”

Dean felt indescribably good inside Sam, but Sam was only about half-hard, still not really recovered from his last orgasm. “Not sure I can.”

Dean kissed him, a surprisingly light and sweet kiss, before giving him a look so filthy it sent shivers through Sam. “You can.”

The mellow pace Dean had been using before disappeared. Dean pulled Sam up until Sam was resting on his forearms. A few experimental thrusts later, Dean had found Sam’s prostate and was slamming into it fast and hard. His grip around Sam’s cock tightened and sped up and Sam writhed with sensitivity, but still looking for that spark, that sliver of pleasure so he could give Dean this one thing they both wanted so badly. A few long moments later he found it. That spark turned into a sharp, bright inferno. He bore down onto Dean, slamming his hips back into Dean’s every thrust.

“You there, Sammy?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam gasped, eyes squeezed shut, completely focused on that fire in his belly.

Dean’s hand sped up even more and Sam clenched down, grunting, panting as his muscles tightened. So close. So close…

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…” Sam howled when the tension popped and his body spasmed. Pleasure washed over him and he gasped for breath. His cock jerked, spitting a pitifully small amount of cum, but the relief was even sharper and brighter than before. He slumped down into Dean’s hold, feebly and involuntarily clenching against each stroke as Dean powered through his own orgasm, his fast, warm breath gusting against Sam’s sweaty neck.

“Holy hell, Sammy,” Dean moaned as he collapsed to the side, taking Sam with him. “Give me a minute.”

Sam hummed, not even sure what they were waiting for, just happy to be wrapped in Dean’s arms. Finally, Dean sighed and let him go. Sam gave a displeased murmur.

“I’ll be right back.”

Dean pushed to his feet, tucked his now limp cock back inside his underwear, pulled his pants more firmly onto his hips, and left the room. Sam gave a little laugh when he realized he was bare ass naked and Dean had never even undressed beyond taking off his plaid shirt before paddling Sam. He felt a thrill at the reminder of the spanking, but his exhausted cock was quick to remind him he was being ridiculous and greedy and just no.

He hadn’t moved when Dean came back with a tray and set it on the ground next to Sam. There was a glass of orange juice. Dean took a few swallows before handing it to Sam who finished it off, surprisingly thirsty. Dean then handed him a few squares of a chocolate bar and half a pitted peach. While Sam chewed, Dean picked up a towel and stuck it in the bowl of water. He wrung it out and Sam reached for it. Dean pulled it out of range.

“Lie back.”

Sam hesitated, chewing slowly, before lying back.

Dean wiped Sam’s face first and down his neck. Then across his chest and down his arms. Then he pushed Sam’s legs up and apart and wiped at the lube on his thighs. He dipped the towel back in the bowl and wrung it out again and then wiped softly across Sam’s hole, cleaned the spend that had dripped out of him, used a finger to get inside a bit, making Sam shiver. Then one last rinse and wring to clean Sam’s sac and now-flaccid penis. Dean dropped the towel on the tray and squeezed some ointment from the tube of arnica cream, smoothing it across Sam's ass, using a finger to rub some inside Sam, to make sure the pain stayed at a dull ache and nothing more. It would have been erotic except for the tender look on Dean’s face. Sam swallowed hard, feeling a hard flutter in his chest.

Dean put the tray on top of his chest of drawers, to be put away properly in the morning. He extended a hand to Sam to help him off the floor and into the bed. Sam slid under the covers, sliding to the far side to make room for Dean. After a quick thump of fabric hitting the floor, Dean bundled in after him, his now bare skin pressing against Sam's. He stretched an arm out and flipped the switch on his table side lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and wrapped himself around Sam huffing a few times before his breath evened out, perfectly relaxed. It was probably weird to think of it now, although probably no weirder than what they’d just done, but this reminded Sam of motel rooms years and years and years ago. He snuggled back into Dean and sighed.

This was perfect.

As sleep tugged at him, Sam knew he had to say something.

“Goodnight, jerk.” _Thank you._

“Goodnight, bitch.” _You’re welcome._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if you were curious about the toy they were playing with, I didn't make it up!  
> https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B0799C6VLW/ref=nav_timeline_asin?_encoding=UTF8&th=1


End file.
